A Day in the Life
by Demon Eyes
Summary: Just another day for Darien, Hobbes and the Agency.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the I-man property...the same old thing, eh?  
  
  


**A Day in the Life**  


  
  
  
  
Darien Fawkes strode into the dilapidated underfunded headquarters of The Agency. It was Friday afternoon, and he was ready for the weekend. There was one thing to take care of, however.   
  
Fawkes slid his key through the slot and sauntered into the Keep. He looked around, but didn't see the Keeper.   
  
"Hello, Darien. Come for a shot?"  
  
She popped up from behind a file cabinet. "How did you know?" he said, displaying the seven red segments with a flourish.   
  
Claire turned to the refrigerator as Fawkes hopped onto the chair. She selected an older container of counteragent, one that was close to going bad. Close to, but not quite.  
  
"Ready for the weekend?" she asked, turning to him with a smile.  
  
"Absolutely. Unless the Chief calls us in. You look like you could use some time off, too."  
  
Claire shrugged and blushed. She was still a little uncomfortable around him, after that scene at the shipyards. He had always been somewhat attractive to her, and now he made her feel completely vulnerable. She slid the needle into his arm, anchoring it against a cotton ball. "I'm just a little tired, that's all."  
  
He let out a small hiss as the counteragent took effect. "Aren't we always just a little tired?"  
  
She smiled and took the needle out. "Thanks Keepy," he said as he hopped off the chair and grabbed his tan jacket. "See you on Monday."  
  
Fawkes left and Claire returned to her work with a sigh.  
  
  
  
The Official left his office and locked the door. Not that locking it would do anything to keep people out, but it was a habit of his.  
  
It was about eleven thirty, and he and Eberts were leaving. Everyone else was long since gone, except for Claire, Alex, Eberts and himself. And now he and Eberts were leaving.   
  
Charlie turned to look at Eberts. Eberts was in his usual spot, hovering over The   
Official's shoulder. The little man offered his tentative smile. "Good night, sir. Have a good weekend."  
  
"You too, Eberts. Go tell Alex we're leaving and that she and Claire are the only ones left."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
The Official walked briskly down to the labs. He couldn't wait to get home and sit down to some nice, calming dinner with some nice, calming TV. It had been a long week, what with the whole Beta-C episode.  
  
His lips twitched into a smile as he thought of Claire hitting on Fawkes and Hobbes. It wasn't anything to laugh about, because it was just the drug talking, but it was amusing to see the normally very English Keeper flirting with the boys.  
  
And it's not like anybody at the Agency didn't know about Bobby's feelings for Claire. He was more angry than he let on about catching Claire and Fawkes at the shipyard. The Official had been in the game for a long time and knew how to read people. And Hobbes was mad.  
  
Shouldn't use the word mad like that anymore, really, The Official thought. Not with who I have working for me.  
  
He entered the Keep, and Claire jumped. "Oh, hello! Leaving?"  
  
"You got it. Just you and Alex left. Don't forget to lock up."  
  
"Goodnight, sir."  
  
The Official stood for a minute, gazing at Claire. She was one amazing woman. He hid his feelings well, but he felt affection her, as well as Fawkes, Hobbes and Alex.   
But they could never know.  
  
"Goodbye," he said in his hoarse voice.  
  
  
  
Fawkes sat in his apartment, reading the mail. He had gotten back a little while ago, after hanging out with Hobbes for a while at a bar. It felt good to get off his feet.   
Fawkes yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, easing the tension there. He'd had a nagging headache for a little while now, but didn't know from what. He'd just gotten a shot, he shouldn't need another one a few hours later. Out of pure habit, he glanced at his tattoo.   
  
The snake had two green.  
  
Fawkes leaped to his feet and rubbed his eyes. He looked again. Still two green.  
  
"What the hell?....."   
  
Then it really hit him.  
  
"Aw crap."  
  
He raced out the door, praying that he'd make it in time.  
  
  
  
Claire began to pack up her work. It was two in the morning. Time to leave.  
She yawned and exited the Keep. She'd been working hard lately, making up for all the work she missed during the Beta-C episode. She blushed suddenly, remembering. She tried not to think about it, but it nagged at her....Darien.....Bobby.....  
  
She knew it had just been the drug, because she knew – or hoped, anyway – she wasn't really like that. But still.....thinking of Fawkes and his kisses......  
  
And what was she supposed to do about Bobby? She knew he had feelings for her. Or thought she knew anyway. It was fairly obvious. And as for feelings in return.....well, she had those, too. She knew she had some feelings for Bobby. As for Darien, well, she couldn't be sure if that was the drug, or her actual feelings brought out by the drug....   
  
"Stop it," she told herself firmly. "You shouldn't even be thinking about it."  
  
Claire slid into her jacket and started to make her way down the hallway when suddenly the door flew open. Fawkes staggered in, clutching the back of his head. "I need a shot! Now! Hurry, Claire!"  
  
Claire spun back to the lab and opened the door. Fawkes shoved past and raced into the lab. Pain shook him, and his hands flew to grab the back of his head. He moaned and convulsed again.   
  
Claire rushed to the refrigerator and snatched up a bottle and a syringe. She began to fill the syringe when Fawkes screeched again. She looked up quickly, breathing hard, and concentrated on filling the syringe. He'd just had a shot......there was no way....  
Unless.....wait a minute......the counteragent had been close to going bad. What if it was bad already? In which case, it would simply speed up the quicksilver madness cycle.  
  
She started to approach him when she stopped short. He gazed at her with crimson eyes and his face twisted into a smile. Claire dropped the syringe and turned instead for the tranq gun. She picked it up with thick fingers, made clumsy from fear. Too late. Fawkes back handed her across the face, and she fell to the floor. The tranquilizer gun skidded away. She rolled out of the way of his swinging foot, inside the arc, and he tripped over her. Claire jumped unsteadily to her feet and looked desperately for the tranq gun. But he was too quick. He swung one leg in a wide arc and tripped her once more. She landed hard, the air leaving her lungs. Claire groaned and coughed.   
Fawkes rolled to his feet and gazed down at her without mercy. He laughed and roughly grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. Fawkes pulled her close to him, so that their faces were inches apart. "Remember last time, Keepy?" he whispered. "Of course you do."  
  
Claire wrenched her arm out of his grasp and turned once more to snatch up the gun. Gasping from fear, she faced him and brought the gun to aim. A punch caught her low in the gut, and then the back of his hand once more met her face. A red haze filled her vision as her lungs emptied again, and she felt the gun wrenched from her hand. She turned in a vain attempt to run, but it was useless. He caught her by the hair and pulled, yanking her so that she faced him again. She saw him pull back his fist and then all was black.  
  
  
  
  
Fawkes gazed down at Claire's unconscious form. She never stood a chance. From the looks of it, he had really beaten the crap out of her. Her eye was swelling up like a balloon, and turning different shades of blue and purple. Blood ran from her nose, and her cheek was bright red. The rage still ran through him. How dare she try to control him! Did she really think she could beat him?  
  
He grinned. Of course she couldn't.  
  
Fawkes turned to survey the scene. Claire lay on the floor, the refrigerator open, the tranq gun next to her.   
  
He licked his lips. Everything in this room was a pain in the ass to him. And he had to do something with all that anger.  
  
Fawkes began to destroy the room. He ripped the drawers out and scattered their contents, tore up research, blew up a computer.   
  
Then suddenly, the rage flowed out of him. A cold madness filled him rather than the normal red hot anger. He stood for a moment, then went and stood in front of the mirror at the back of the room. Rather than red eyes gazing back at him, he saw silver eyes. Pretty, quicksilver colored eyes.  
  
He turned to gaze at Claire again, and then a plan crystallized in his insane mind. He laughed. Fawkes bent down, picked up the tranquilizer gun and slid silently out of the Keep.  
  
  
  
  
Alex sat in her office, straightening out her desk. It was time to call it a night. Her bed was calling to her, and she was exhausted. Alex yawned, and wondered whether Claire was still there. She didn't think the Keeper would leave without telling her. Alex slid into her red leather jacket and grabbed her purse.   
  
Suddenly, the door of the office slammed open, banging against the wall with its force. Fawkes stood in the doorway.  
  
"What the hell is wrong with....."  
  
She cut off when she realized what the hell was wrong with him. "Aw, crap," she murmured without thinking.   
  
Fawkes gazed at her a moment with cold eyes then leaped. She dodged out of his way and turned to face him. He swung a fist at her, and she ducked. Fawkes paused for a moment, grinning. "You put up a much better fight than Claire did."  
  
Alex froze for a moment. The only other person there was......well, she wasn't sure how Claire was, but she was most likely unconscious in some form or another. Fawkes took advantage of her pause and swung at her, knocking her to the ground. She winced as she hit the floor and rolled away from him. His foot caught her in the side, and she groaned, coughing. Another kick met her ribs, and she felt a bruise rise immediately.   
Alex was seriously scared. Fawkes was mad. There was no telling what he might do. She had never really had to deal with a quicksilver mad Fawkes, let alone a stage five one. She had read about QSM in some debriefing files, but hadn't really taken it all too seriously. She hadn't known how it would be. Nobody ever really talked about it, and she'd only come up against it twice, really. That time with the woman who stole those old Chinese needles, and that time at the shipyard. The first time wasn't bad, because she'd taken Fawkes out before he could fully focus on her and do anything. It had creeped her out, though, the way he wouldn't listen.   
  
The look in his eyes.  
  
At the shipyards, he wasn't even paying attention to her.   
  
And now he wasn't even just plain crazy. He was smart and crazy. She had never seen a stage five Fawkes, and the other people at the Agency had never talked about the time when it did happen. Claire had filled her in just a little bit, enough so that Alex knew what she was dealing with. But Alex was uncertain as to what to do.   
  
No more time for thought. Fawkes pulled out a tranquilizer gun and shot her.  
  
  
  
  
The Official woke to the ringing phone. He grumbled and picked it up.  
  
"It's 5:00 in the morning. Who the hell is this?"  
  
"Hello, Charlie."  
  
The Official started. The voice was familiar, but.....  
  
"Who is this?"  
  
"Oh, I think you know."  
  
Was is Fawkes? Why would Fawkes call him Charlie?.......Why would he call at 5:00 in the morning?......  
  
"Darien?"  
  
"Alex and Claire won't be in to work tomorrow. They've been delayed. I'm gonna make this easy. I want the recipe for the counteragent. If I don't get it soon enough, I'll kill them."  
  
Click.  
  
Charles Borden closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed, and reached for the phone to call Hobbes.  
  
  



	2. Chapter Two

  


**A Day in the Life**  


  
  
Hobbes strode into work early on Saturday, quicker than his usual pace. When the Official called you at your house at 5:00 on a Saturday morning, it was rarely good.  
He slammed open the door to the office and looked automatically for Fawkes. No sign of him.   
  
"Where's Fawkes?"  
  
The Fat Man looked at him with tired eyes. Eberts wore his worried Eberts expression.  
  
"OK, where's Alex?"  
  
No answer. Hobbes raised his eyebrows.   
  
"Where's Claire?"  
  
The Official sighed. "Gone. We don't know where."  
  
Eberts stepped forward. "Well, we do know that Darien isn't doing as badly as the others-"  
  
"Shut up Eberts."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"What. Happened."  
  
The Official sighed again. "We really don't know. I got a phone call from someone this morning at 5:00. He demanded the counteragent recipe and said if we didn't give it to him, he'd kill Monroe and the doctor."  
  
Hobbes swallowed, fearing the worst. "And who was it?"  
  
The Official closed his eyes, defeated. "It sounded like Fawkes."  
  
Hobbes swallowed again.   
  
"And – was he -- you know--,"  
  
"It sounded like it."  
  
Hobbes paced the room, running a hand repeatedly through what was left of his hair. "When I left him last night, he was fine, you know, why would he have gone red eye an hour later? Now the Keeper's missing, not to mention Alex, so I'm basically in this alone in this, what am I supposed to do? He's an invisible man, for God's sake, how the hell will I find him? If he kills Claire and Monroe, I don't know how I'll live with myself, not to mention how Fawkes'll feel when we get him back, and that's only if we get him back, and does Claire even have a stage 5 counteragent, cause you know that's probably   
what he is by now–"   
  
Hobbes stopped and took a deep breath, blowing it out quickly.  
  
"Bobby. We need to think. No hysterics."   
  
"Who's being hysterical? I'm not being hysterical," Bobby said hysterically.  
  
The Official and Eberts stared.  
  
Hobbes took another deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "Aright, give me info."  
"The Keep has been trashed. The tranq gun is missing, and the counteragent was out."  
Hobbes breathed slowly, getting himself under control. "Any leads?" he asked in a tightly controlled voice.  
  
"None."  
  
Hobbes sighed in defeat. Why was his partner cursed like this?  
  
"Hobbes."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"We need to find them. Quickly."  
  
Hobbes stood for a moment, thinking. "What we need to do is find out what he wants. What his plans are. Who or what he's going after."   
  
"You're the only one here who knows him very well. Who would he go for?"  
  
  
  
  
Arnaud DeFehrn sat in his newest hotel suite, watching the gourmet cooking channel. He sighed and held up one invisible hand to study his nails. Oh yeah.  
  
Suddenly his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open. Who would be calling his cell phone and not his regular one?   
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Hello Arnie."  
  
Arnaud closed his invisible eyes. "Robert Hobbes."  
  
Statement, not question.  
  
"Very good. Have you heard from Fawkes?"  
  
Arnaud snorted. "As much as I would have loved such a surprise," he said sarcastically.   
"I was denied the pleasure."  
  
"We need to find him."  
  
"Goody for you."  
  
"He went nuts again and we need to find him. He's hiding, threatening to kill the Keeper and another agent."  
  
"How hard is this for you people? You make the counteragent, stick the needle in his arm and push the little button on the top down. It's that simple."   
  
"I didn't ask for your comedy, you Swiss Miss freak. We have to find Fawkes."  
  
"Well what do you want me to do about it?"  
  
"We think he's going after you."  
  
Arnaud laughed an invisible laugh. "Well, he won't be able to find me. Speaking of which, how did you get this number?"  
  
"Well, your girlfriend was a big help."  
  
Arnaud started.   
  
"You have Elizabeth?"  
  
"Oh yeah, she was pretty easy to find. Brought her to where we are now, told her to call you and here we are."  
  
Arnaud glanced at the clock. "Well, it was fun chatting. I have things to do. Getting a new cell phone to start."  
  
Arnaud hung up the phone and sighed.  
  
  
  
  
Hobbes hung up the phone and sighed. He'd hoped Fawkes would have contacted Arnaud already, but apparently not. How to find him?  
  
Hobbes left his apartment and got in the van. Finding somebody was usually a little challenging, but it was harder when you knew the guy, had been working with him for a year.   
  
Had become friends.  
  
Bobby started up Golda and drove aimlessly through the streets, thinking. Would Fawkes really kill Claire and Alex? As much as Alex annoyed Hobbes, he didn't want her to be a victim of Faw –   
  
Of the gland.  
  
Like his partner.  
  
And Claire. If he lost her, his life wouldn't be worth living.   
  
Hobbes sighed. Life was never easy.  
  
  
  
  
Claire woke up slowly, to a world made hazy with pain. She moaned and tried to reach a hand up to feel her nose, but her hand wouldn't move from behind her back. She opened her eyes a little wider and gazed at her surroundings. She appeared to be in her own SUV, tied up in the back seat. She turned her head slowly, wincing from the pain shooting up the bridge of her nose. Alex Monroe lay on the seat next to her, eyes shut. No injuries that Claire could see, but that didn't mean they weren't there.  
Claire shook her head, trying to wake up fully. She continued to try to gather information. They were currently driving down a deserted road, seemingly in the desert. It was early morning, probably around eight. She leaned to her right, trying to see the driver without him seeing her.   
  
Not gonna happen.  
  
He gazed at her in the rearview mirror and grinned. "Morning, Claire. Have a good sleep?"  
  
She groaned silently at the silver eyes. She had developed a counteragent for stage five, but she hadn't really done thorough testing on it. And it wouldn't do a hell of a lot of good from where it was now, in the refrigerator back in the Keep.  
  
Darien tilted his head to one side, gazing at her with hypnotic eyes. "Ooh," he said in a quiet voice. "That's a nasty black eye you got there, Keep. How'd you get it?"  
  
Alex moaned and stirred. Fawkes turned his eyes back to the road. "Make yourselves comfy, girls. It'll be a long drive, to where we're going."  
  
Alex sat up and slowly shook her head. "What happened?" she asked in a hoarse voice.   
  
"Can't you tell?" Claire asked, jerking her head in the driver's direction.  
  
Alex coughed and winced. Claire gazed at her with concerned eyes. "Are you all right?"  
  
"Just a bruise on my side," Alex said, shrugging it off. "You don't look so hot either. Are you OK?"  
  
"I'll be all right."  
  
Monroe nodded and settled back. "Any idea where we're going?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
Another car appeared on the road in front of them. Fawkes sped up and cut in front of him, coming within inches of hitting the other car. The other driver swerved wildly, falling behind the SUV. He stuck his head out the window and made a not so nice finger   
gesture. "What are you, crazy?"  
  
Claire held her breath, hoping Darien either wouldn't hear or wouldn't care. Claire   
closed her eyes and sighed inwardly. Alex closed her eyes and sighed outwardly. What would Darien do?  
  
He laughed. "As a matter of fact....."   
  
Darien pulled the car into a tight U-turn and drove back to where the driver was still stopped. He pulled up next to the other car and turned around in his seat. "This won't take long," he said to the two women, grinning. He slipped on his sunglasses. Claire's eyes followed him as he got out of the car and approached the other driver. Fawkes casually leaned in the window and said something Claire couldn't hear. The other driver angrily replied. Claire winced. She sincerely hoped the other driver didn't make Darien angry. Alex shifted in her seat and leaned up next to Claire to see what happened.  
Darien gestured with his hand and said something else. He leaned back quickly as the driver threw open the door and got out.   
  
"No, no, no" Claire murmured. "Just get back in your car and drive the other way. Come on....."  
  
Darien cocked his head and smiled a devilish smile. He said something else. The driver of the other car pushed him suddenly.   
  
Alex sucked in her breath and watched with wide eyes. She didn't know what he would do, but she could guess.   
  
Fawkes' grin faded. He tilted his head the other way and gazed at the man for a second. Darien took off his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. The other driver's eyes widened and his mouth opened. He began what seemed like a stuttering apology, judging from what Claire could hear.  
  
Fawkes slowly grinned, listening to the man stutter. He circled around to the man's other side, so the man's back was facing Claire and Alex, and they could see Fawkes. Darien slowly moved toward the other man, and the man backed away. Fawkes was backing him toward the car, and they came within earshot of the women.   
  
"....sorry, hey listen, I was just a little upset when you cut in front of me—"  
  
Fawkes glared at him. "So it's my fault, right?"  
  
"No, of course not! It was my fault, definitely....."  
  
"If you know it's your fault, why did you push me?"  
  
"Well, I wasn't thinking clearly, and I really am sorry, so can we just kinda—"  
  
Darien smiled. "Shh. Hey, don't worry, buddy. It just so happens that I'm gonna give you a little break."  
  
Claire watched with bated breath.   
  
"You're my first encounter of the day, so you're really just a warm up. So you will be treated specially."  
  
The other driver frowned in confusion. "But—"  
  
Fawkes swung a fist at the driver. The other man's eyes went wide and he started to turn away, but was hit just the same. He went down like a sack of cement. Darien watched as the man groaned and rolled away. He leaned down and inspected the man. Grinning, he straightened up and sauntered back to the SUV.   
  
Claire and Alex returned to their original positions. Fawkes opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. "I'm back."  
  
"We noticed," Alex said dryly.  
  
Darien slowly turned his gaze on her, and her sneer faded at the stare. She lowered her eyes and looked away. Fawkes smiled and faced front in the seat. "Now that that's taken care of, we can get going. I'll just drop you where I want you, and then I'll run back to do a little errand."  
  
Claire sighed and gazed out the window.  
  
  
  
  
Hobbes pulled up in front of the agency's HQ. It was time to review the scene of the crime.  
  
He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it sooner. Maybe because he was in shock.   
The first time this had happened, it hadn't been as bad, because he was with Fawkes, first of all, and second of all, Fawkes hadn't been holding two people he knew hostage.  
Bobby hurried down the hallway and entered the Keep. The door was jammed open. He inspected the key slot. Claire's key was still stuck in it.  
  
He swallowed. Guess she didn't have time to take it out.  
  
Bobby had already checked Alex's office, but there had been nothing of interest in there. The Keep was what he was focused on. Hobbes walked slowly into the Keep, gazing around at the destruction. It was easy enough to figure out what had happened to cause the mess. QSM Fawkes had simply torn around the room.  
  
Hobbes' gaze centered on the refrigerator area. There was a syringe on the floor near it, and –   
  
Bobby swallowed hard.  
  
And blood.  
  
Probably Claire's.   
  
Hobbes clenched his fists. He knew it wasn't really Fawkes's fault, but still....if Fawkes killed Claire, he himself might need to be locked away.  
  
For a while anyway.  
  
Hobbes moved around the room, taking in the destruction. He looked through a couple of papers, turned a chair upright. The computer lay on the floor, smashed to bits. Someone get the broom, he thought, a faint smile on his lips. He walked through the little doorway, into the room that held that godforsaken chair. Bobby stood for a moment, not moving. His gaze had locked on the chair.   
  
There was a piece of paper on it. Bobby snatched it up, reading quickly.  
  
As the Lord once said, "Vengeance is mine."  
  
Hobbes thought for a moment. Who would he be talking about? Who would Fawkes want revenge on?  
  
Hobbes smacked a hand to his forehead. Of course.  
  
  
  
  
Arnaud DeFehrn was in his newer newest hotel suite, sipping a margarita, flipping through channels on the TV. Couldn't take the chance that they would track him at the old hotel.   
  
His cell phone went off suddenly. He hadn't replaced it yet. Rolling his eyes, he pulled it out and turned it on. "Hello?"  
  
"Hello, Arnie."  
  
"What do you want now?"  
  
"Are you sure you haven't heard from Fawkes?"  
  
"If I had heard from him, you would know."  
  
"Thanks Arnie."  
  
Click.  
  
Arnaud shook his head and hung up.  
  
  
  
  
Hobbes shook his head and hung up. He should've hit Arnaud by now. And the Swiss twerp probably wasn't lying. There was no motive. If Fawkes didn't mean Arnaud, who did he mean?   
  
Bobby took the note to the Official's office. He strode in briskly. "Where's Eberts?"  
The Official raised his eyebrows. "Do you see the man standing behind me?"  
  
Hobbes stared for a moment and shook his head. "Eberts, I need your help."  
  
Eberts swallowed. He swallowed again. He swallowed once more. "H....He....help with what?" Helping Robert Hobbes was not on his "to do" list. Chances were he wouldn't listen to a word he'd say. He would just take his aggressions out on Eberts.   
  
"I need you to help me figure something out."  
  
Eberts swallowed again.  
  
  
  
  
After having dropped the girls off at the original quicksilver site, far out in the desert, Fawkes returned to town at breakneck speed. He had something to do. He had to   
honor the note he'd left on the dentist chair.  
  
Fawkes grinned as he put his sunglasses on. This was going to be so much fun.  
  
Darien parked about a block away, and hopped out. He sauntered down the block, gazing at the other people around him. It was hard to resist the temptation to engage in some random acts of violence, but he restrained himself. He had a mission. One that was much better than the crap he'd been doing for the agency.  
  
Darien cautiously opened the door to the Agency. After peering carefully into the hallway, he made sure no one was upstairs. Quicksilver flowed over his body as he made his way to the Official's office.   
  
  
  
  
About an hour later, Eberts and Hobbes sat in the place where Eberts felt most comfortable.  
  
The filing rooms.  
  
Hobbes paced back and forth. Eberts filed a box that he'd found, figuring he may as   
well make use of the time.   
  
"I just don't know, E-man. If he didn't mean Arnaud, than I don't know who he means."  
Eberts swallowed and clutched a file to his chest. "Maybe he means one of us."   
Hobbes stopped pacing. "Well....maybe.....but I don't know, why would he want revenge on me? I mean, sure I get on his nerves sometimes, but....."  
  
Eberts swallowed again. "M-may.....maybe he meant....me."  
  
Hobbes stared.   
  
Eberts shrugged and filed the folder. "I mean, I get on his nerves all the time, I laugh at him! I treat him like a little kid....he's probably really angry at me, and he's coming after me, and he's going to kill me....."  
  
Eberts was starting to hyperventilate. He was twisting a file between his hands, his fists white. Hobbes quickly crossed the room and placed his hands on the little man's shoulders. "Calm. Down," he instructed. "I doubt he would go after you. You're not really that big of a deal to him. But who is? Who does he really hate? All the time? Except for Arnaud?"   
  
Hobbes paced some more, thinking. He came to an abrupt halt. An idea formed in his head. He slowly formed the conclusion.   
  
And he was shocked he didn't come to it earlier.  
  
"Aw crap," he whispered. "Eberts, he's goin' after the Official!"  
  
  



	3. Chapter Three

A Day in the Life  
Chapter Three  


  
  
Darien peered into the office door, watching the Official work. He was alone. Fawkes tilted his head to one side and raised his eyebrows. My oh my, he thought. Where is our friend Eberts? He left the Official all alone, tsk tsk. Who knows what may happen to him on his own? Fawkes thought it was strange Hobbes hadn't figured out who he was going after. Probably still on the Arnaud angle. Must be getting old.   
  
Fawkes pushed the door open and sauntered into the room. The Official glanced up, seeing no one but knowing full well who was there. Fawkes shed the quicksilver, figuring it was no fun if the Fat Man didn't see the attack coming. They'd know who did it anyway.   
  
The Official's eyes widened as Darien approached him, smiling an eerie smile. Charles swallowed. Who'd have thought they'd find Darien this way? He reached for his phone when Darien pulled out Claire's gun, pointing it at the Official. "Put it down," he said, still smiling. "Don't be naughty."   
  
The Official wore his everyday mask, betraying no fear, no anger, nothing. He knew that fear was like fuel to Darien. He figured a bluff was in order. "Darien, they know you're here. They're coming as we speak. I have security all around—"   
  
Darien shook his head, grinning. "No one knows." He approached, still holding the gun.   
  
"It's just you and me, Charlie."   
  
"Darien, tell me where Claire and Alex are."   
  
Fawkes stopped his slow stride. "And spoil the fun? I couldn't do that."   
  
The Official leaned forward. "You'd better tell me now before you do something you'll regret."   
  
Darien took another step. "I won't regret it."   
  
"Well, eventually we're gonna get you some counteragent and you'll tell us where they are anyway."   
  
Darien's face hardened. "I'm not letting you come near me with that excuse for sanity again," he said in a sinister whisper. He relaxed and smiled again. "Besides....this is clearly the superior me."   
  
The Official took a deep breath. He didn't know how much longer he could stall the man in front of him. He'd just have to keep him talking until Hobbes and Eberts came back.   
  
Or else go for his trusty gun.   
  
He slipped his hand down inside the desk, groping for the gun, trying to be silent.   
  
Fawkes continued his approach, faster this time. "No more talk, Charlie," he snarled, pouncing. The Official pulled out the gun and took a shot, but it was wild, and exploded in the wall behind Fawkes. Well, a few dollars in wall repair. He didn't really want to shoot at Fawkes, just scare him a little.   
  
Darien retaliated with a shot of his own, into the desk right in front of Charles. Also just to scare him.   
  
Borden swallowed. Or maybe because just plain shooting someone isn't creative.   
  
Fawkes swung the gun at The Official, and he ducked. The Official half walked half crawled, hunched over to avoid a shot. He straightened up when Darien went the other way around the desk and began to run, or tried to. Darien growled and shoved the desk into his path. The Official dodged around it when Darien took another shot. Pain exploded in the back of the Borden's right leg, below the knee. He stumbled, bracing himself on his recently moved desk. More pain in the back of his skull this time, worse than the gunshot. Darien had slammed the gun into the back of his head. The Official slid slowly to the ground, dazed. Darien gazed down at him, lip curled in disgust.   
  
Then he smiled. "I've been waiting a long time for this Charlie."   
  
The Official blacked out under the heavy beating.   
  
  
Hobbes raced down the hall way, wishing he could fly. "Please Fawkes, please Fawkes, c'mon buddy, don't be there yet, please....."   
  
The Official's door was in sight, closed as Hobbes had left it. It told him nothing.   
  
Bobby skidded to a stop in front of it, throwing it open. The Official lay by his desk, unconscious and in very bad condition. Darien ran one long finger through a puddle of blood on the desk and raised it for inspection, smiling. "Fawkes!" Hobbes cried out. "Stop buddy, come on!"   
  
Fawkes' head snapped to the door. He grinned to see who was there. Darien said nothing, just raised the gun and shot, causing Hobbes to duck.   
  
Hobbes gritted his teeth, determined not to let Fawkes go. He raised his own gun, pointing it at Darien's midsection. "I'll shoot. You know I will, partner."   
  
Darien walked forward and took the barrel of the gun in his hand, placing it against his chest, over his heart. "Go for it," he whispered.   
  
Hobbes swallowed, strengthening his resolve. "Where are Alex and Claire?"   
  
Darien snickered. "Where it all began, Hobbes. They're hanging out. Don't worry. They're not dead yet." He gave a wicked smile. "Claire sends her love." Fawkes turned invisible and roughly shoved Hobbes out of his way. Hobbes grabbed by reflex and caught an icy arm. He latched on with his other hand and struggled by pure touch to get Fawkes into an arm lock. An excruciating blow caught Hobbes in the temple. Dazed, with ringing ears, he struggled to retain his hold on the cold forearm. The arm was wrenched from his weakening grip, and Hobbes heard the footsteps going out the door, down the hall. He shut his eyes and fell back against the door, gasping with the pain and the stress and the frustration.   
  
He wrenched his eyes open as Eberts arrived in the doorway, breathless. "Oh sir," he cried out, running to his boss's side. He picked up the phone and called 911.   
  
Hobbes sighed and closed his eyes again.  
  
  



End file.
